Snoring
by Indee
Summary: Draco is forced to stay in a hotel with Harry. Problem is, Harry has a cold. And he snores. Oneshot. Slight H/D but not really .


Draco growled into the open night air, grabbing the pillow beneath his head and slamming it over his face, pressing the sides down in an attempt to cover his ears and protect them from the grating snore that came from the bed next to his. He was grinding his teeth in agitation, and it was all he could do to keep from grabbing his wand from the bedside table and curse Potter into oblivion. The problem was that this was some stupid muggle hotel Potter had insisted on renting for the night (which, Draco had to admit, was better than sleeping in Potter's car again) which meant no magic.

However, Potter had caught a cold somewhere along the way and now he was snoring like an overgrown troll.

Finally, Draco pulled the pillow off his face and threw it with all his strength at the other man sleeping in the separate queen bed. The pillow bounced off Potter's back. Potter grunted and shifted, but didn't wake up. The snoring stopped for about two point five seconds. And now Draco had one less pillow.

If they had been in a wizarding house or in a wizard-run Inn, this wouldn't be a problem. A simple silencing spell would suffice. But they weren't and Potter had been adamant about no magic in the presence of muggles, even if the presence of muggles was seperated by a thick wall. Stupid Potter and his paranoia. That was what Obliviating charms were for, damn it.

Crawling from the sheets and rubbing the warmth back into his arms, Draco stood up and paced the room. He'd already dug through the contents of every drawer in the room in search of ear plugs, and the ones he'd found were shady at best. Even with a scourgifying charm, Draco had been hesitant to use them. And when he had, he found that they were about as useless as the pillow over his head.

Finally, unable to stand it any longer, Draco padded over to the edge of Potter's bed and prodded him with a slender fingertip.

"Potter," Draco growled in annoyance, poking Potter's arm. Potter shifted again, rolling over and pulling the covers tighter around his neck. He was practically cocooned in sheets, some wrapping up over his head. Now if only he'd pull them just a bit further down and suffocate himself, Draco thought with fervor.

Of course, Draco didn't wish Potter dead. He had, maybe, once upon a time. Okay, he definitely had back in school. There were many times he'd wished Potter would drop dead. It would have solved all his problems. But Potter dropping dead now would solve nothing and only make Draco's life miserable. Not because it lacked Potter (a lie he constantly told himself, keeping his burgeoning feelings for the other man hidden deep inside a locked box), but because he would have to explain why Potter, one of the most important men in their line of business, had dropped dead in Draco's company.

"Potter!" shouted Draco loudly, pushing his finger into Potter's rib.

"No," Potter murmured, still fast asleep. He stopped snoring for about six seconds. Suddenly an idea blossomed in Draco's head. It was a strange observation he'd made, but he inched forward. Instead of poking Potter, he set his hand on Potter's arm. Potter stopped snoring. As soon as Draco pulled it away, the trollsnores burst forth. Narrowing his eyes, Draco rested his hand on Potter's arm longer. As long as it was held there, Potter stopped snoring. There was a bit of wheezing (from the cold, no doubt), but the sawmill seemed to stop.

Draco dug around Potter's side of the bed and pulled out a book from one of the bags that was strewn about the floor. God, Potter was a pig. His jeans were in a heap by the nightstand and his shirt had been tossed over the lamp shade. What was so hard about folding things into a neat pile? Draco shook his head and propped the book against Potter's back, hoping that the pressure would simulate Draco's hand.

For a brief moment, it worked. And then Potter shifted, the book fell and he started snoring again.

Draco gave a strangled cry of frustration and annoyance. All he wanted was a little sleep!

He padded over to the phone that lay on the hotel room desk. He picked up the receiver, as Potter had taught him to do, and dialed down to the front desk. He gritted his teeth.

"Good morning, what can I do for you?" came the irritatingly sweet voice from the other end. Morning? As far as Draco was concerned, it was still bloody night. Sure, technically the clocks read AM, but morning shouldn't be until at least seven thirty, as far as Draco was concerned.

"Do you have any other available rooms?" Draco asked, glancing over at Potter. He had to cover the mouthpiece slightly so that the grating snore wouldn't be heard on the other end.

"Is there something wrong with yours?" the attendant asked, putting on an air of concern. Draco could hear the slight annoyance in her tone, if only because it matched his own.

"Yes," said Draco. "My partner snores like a troll and I'm afraid I might get into a bit of trouble if I suffocate him to get some sleep."

He heard the girl stifle a snort before he heard the tip-tapping of fingers on a computer keyboard. Draco still didn't know how to use one, but he could at least recognize the sound of one. Potter always had his laptop with him and was constantly trying to teach Draco to use it, but he'd had to stop since Draco had threatened to blow the thing to pieces if it registered the 'Z' key instead of the 'shift' key one more time.

"I'm afraid we don't have any available rooms tonight. We're full up. Would you like some ear plugs?"

Draco glared at the phone. Ear plugs? Ugh! He managed to squeeze out a 'no, thank you' before slamming the receiver down and glaring at the black-haired man. Potter didn't even flinch at the slam. Draco vaguely wished that Potter would have a nightmare, like he sometimes did, just so that he would wake up. He'd probably sleep through the resurrection of Voldemort.

Maybe...

Draco began to think of an idea. It was an unpleasant idea, but it might work. Judging by the way Potter was sleeping, Draco was sure to wake up before him anyway, and Potter would never be the wiser...

Slinking over to the edge of Potter's bed, Draco pressed his hand against Potter's back. Sure enough, Potter stopped snoring. What was with that, anyway? Grabbing an extra blanket that rested at the foot of the bed, Draco crawled atop the covers beside Potter, took the pillow that he'd thrown back, and snuggled beneath the blanket. He shoved his knee into the small of Potter's back.

With the snoring stopped, Draco heaved a sigh and closed his eyes. It wasn't ideal, but it worked.

"What are you doing in my bed?"

Potter's voice woke Draco with a start. His eyes flew open and he found himself staring at Potter's ungodly nose. He inwardly cursed. How did Potter wake up before him? He never did! He slept as late as Weasley on a Sunday morning _every_ morning, and that was saying something. Draco's eyes drifted over the top of Potter's fat head to the alarm clock that sat on the nightstand beside the bed.

It was nearly ten in the morning. How did this happen? Draco never slept that late; not unless he had spent all night drinking or otherwise engaged in activities until late in the - oh. Right. He hadn't fallen asleep until two thirty because of Potter's snoring. Well, _damn_.

"You were snoring," Draco answered, pushing himself up so that he was no longer staring at Potter's porous nose. Couldn't he at least use some of the cleanser Draco had bought him for Christmas? It was for the good of his friends and family and anyone who ever looked at him! No one needed pores that big. "You wouldn't stop."

"So... what does that have to do with you being in my bed?" Potter asked. He didn't seem angry. Or even concerned. He looked amused. Somehow that was worse.

"You would only stop when..." Draco trailed off. How was he supposed to explain that the only way Potter stopped snoring was when Draco touched him? That sounded... dirty. And Draco would most definitely never ever go there. Thinking about it was... well, Draco didn't want to think about it. That just brought up a lot of unresolved issues.

"When what?" Potter was trying not to laugh at him. As if Potter had a reason to laugh at him! He was the one that snored like a troll!

"When I did this," Draco pressed his hand on Potter's shoulder. It was better than saying 'When I touch you'. And anyway, Potter was the perv who stopped snoring when he had someone to snuggle up against. Potter raised an eyebrow. That was such a stupid look. Draco quickly shuffled out of the bed, dragging the extra blanket with him. "Look, let's just... never talk about this. Besides, it was that or suffocate you and I thought you'd prefer to be alive."

Potter snickered. He was infuriating! He was lucky Draco didn't just blast him to smithereens then and there!

"How thoughtful of you," Potter said, his lips pursed together as he held back a laugh. Draco glared at him, and stormed to his side of the hotel room. "Why didn't you just use a silencing spell?"

Draco's shoulders tightened and his back stiffened. He turned to face Potter, his eyes blazing and his teeth gritted. "You said you didn't want magic being used in a muggle hotel. It was your rule."

Potter bit his lip. "I didn't think you'd actually listen to me."

Draco was having a hard time not reaching for his wand. Perhaps Potter wouldn't mind spending the next week with a bout of nasty boils. Draco hesitated. He really didn't want to look at Potter covered in boils for the next week. Especially since they were sharing a car on their misadventure. Maybe a nasty rash...

"You're right," said Potter finally, but it was obvious he was struggling to hold it together. "We'll never speak of this again. I ordered up tea while you were sleeping. You like your eggs runny, right?"

Draco hesitantly nodded. Wait, so... Potter had laid there, ordered breakfast and tea all the while Draco was sleeping next to him?

There was something seriously wrong with that man.


End file.
